The pawnbroker came from the little room beyond, with the newspaper in his hand, and his brow darkened as he saw the customer. He was of a harsh and dominant nature, and he foresaw more distasteful threats. “Well, what do you want?” he demanded abruptly. “Morning, sir,” said the brown man in perfect English; “fine day.” “The day’s well enough,” said the Jew. “I want a little talk with you,” said the other suavely, “a little, quiet, reasonable talk.” “You’d better make it short,” said the Jew. “My time is valuable.” The brown man smiled, and raised his hand with a deprecatory gesture. “Many things are valuable,” said he, “but time is the most valuable of all. And time to us means life.” The Jew saw the covert threat, and grew more irritable still. “Get to your business,” he said sharply. The brown man leant on the counter, and regarded him with a pair of fierce, brown eyes, which age had not dimmed. “You are a reasonable man,” he said slowly, “a good merchant. I can see it. But sometimes a good merchant makes a bad bargain. In that case what does the good merchant do?” “Get out of here,” said the Jew angrily. “He makes the best of it,” continued the other calmly, “and he is a lucky man if he is not too late to repair the mischief. _You are not too late_.” The Jew laughed boisterously. “There was a sailor once made a bad bargain,” said the brown man, still in the same even tones, “and he died—of grief.” He grinned at this pleasantry until his face looked like a cracked mask. “I read in this paper of a sailor being killed,” said the Jew, holding it up. “Have you ever heard of the police, of prison, and of the hangman?” “All of them,” said the other softly. “I might be able to put the hangman on the track of the sailor’s murderer,” continued the Jew grimly. The brown man smiled and shook his head. “You are too good a merchant,” he said; “besides, it would be very difficult.” “It would be a pleasure to me,” said the Jew. “Let us talk business like men, not nonsense like children,” said the brown man suddenly. “You talk of hangmen. I talk of death. Well, listen. Two nights ago you bought a diamond from a sailor for five hundred pounds. Unless you give me that diamond back for the same money I will kill you.” “What?” snarled the Jew, drawing his gaunt figure to its full height. “You, you miserable mummy?” “I will kill you,” repeated the brown man calmly. “I will send death to you—death in a horrible shape. I will send a devil, a little artful, teasing devil, to worry you and kill you. In the darkness he will come and spring out on you. You had better give back the diamond, and live. If you give it back I promise you your life.” He paused, and the Jew noticed that his face had changed, and in place of the sardonic good-humor which had before possessed it, was now distorted by a devilish malice. His eyes gleamed coldly, and he snapped them quickly as he spoke. “Well, what do you say?” he demanded. “This,” said the Jew.